


Written

by aria_dc_al_fine



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aria_dc_al_fine/pseuds/aria_dc_al_fine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael.</p><p>Seven letters, blue so light they are barely visible (as if Harvey could be one of those people who are whole without another half), written in small cursive so neat, the penmanship nearly perfect. As though the writer was very detail-oriented.</p><p>Harvey had had this inscription on the inside of his right wrist the whole thirty five years of his life.</p><p>And Michael James Ross is not someone Harvey had expected his soul mate to be. </p><p>SBI AU, where Harvey’s first meeting with Mike is not at the interview but at the SBI Bureau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You just gotta face it

**Author's Note:**

> \- Setting happens in a world with more advanced medical technology  
> \- May contain future mpreg. I haven't decided. In any case in the setting our couple is in, mpreg is possible and will be talked about, even if it may not happen to our couple  
> \- This is my first Suits fanfic, please let me know if I've written some gross OOC-ness

“You must be joking.”

Donna stayed silent. She had this expression on her face, the same she had when his father died.

 _She’s serious_ , Harvey cursed inwardly. He glared at the envelope in his hands as though he could will it away from existence.

 _Soul Bond Inscription Bureau_ , the sender’s address, finely printed in black ink, merely stared back at him mockingly.

“Well,” Harvey’s throat went dry, “Let’s just rip off the band-aid, shall we?”

\----------

 _Michael_.

Seven letters, blue so light they are barely visible (as if Harvey could be one of those people who are _whole_ without another half), written in small cursive so neat, the penmanship nearly perfect. As though the writer was very detail-oriented.

Harvey had had this inscription on the inside of his right wrist the whole thirty five years of his life.

Long enough for him to have memorized every single aspect of the name, from the nuance to the particular slant to the letter _M_ , the way the dot was placed so precisely over the stem in the letter _i_.

The fact that his soul mate was a guy had given him some grief over his teenage years, but Harvey Specter was no wimp. He had a way of charming ladies, and he made sure that others saw it. Same-gendered platonic mates are as almost as common as sexual ones. Harvey let others believe he belonged to the former category. Besides, he was bi.

It wasn’t that Harvey was ashamed of who he was. He was just raised not believing in SBI, that the person who has his or her name on your wrist was your perfect match, your other half. His parents had other people’s names on their wrists, and so were many others he knew. Some non-SBI couples were completely not right for each other (like his parents, actually; Dad loved Mom too much and Mom was…Harvey didn’t want to talk about it) and some were happy together.

SBI just had…no scientific basis. True, most SBI couples he knew were compatible, but that’s statistics. Also, you only had your mate’s first name. If your name is as common as John and your SBI is another common name like Mary, how do you know which Mary is the one? And how does your Mary know you are her one?

SBI’s ridiculous. And Harvey planned to have nothing to do with it. He can’t be bothered to go steady anyways.

That was, until the _Soul Bond Inscription Bureau_ was established.

It was prompted by a decline in the birth rate, which started in the 1980s and never picked up [1]. Set up in D.C., one of the states with the lowest birth rates, the _Bureau_ started filing ‘SBI’ as part of their population survey, ran graphology and offered ‘matchmaking’ services to pairs whose inscriptions and handwriting samples match. Two decades and higher birth rate later, equipped with better technology, the _Bureau_ had expanded to other states, including New York, and made marriage between confirmed SBI mates compulsory.

Harvey Specter could no longer ignore the name on his wrist.

\----------

Vanessa’s face was buried in the magazine she was holding on to when Harvey arrived at the grocery stall, but he knew the exact moment she was aware of his presence by the tilt of her head.

“So…” Harvey leaned on the pillar next to the magazine rack and picked a reading material of his own. “What have you found on one _Michael James Ross_?”

Harvey was very well aware that he was financially a catch, and his SBI could be accessed by anyone with hacking skills. He didn’t want to enter into a civil partnership with a conman.

Vanessa didn’t answer straight away, her expression pensive. Harvey was inwardly worried for a moment before she whispered, “He’s your genuine SBI. He’s had your name since the Bureau entered New York nine years ago, and the handwriting matches yours.”

Nine years ago Harvey was just a junior associate at Pearson Hardman, and _Michael James Ross_ would have been only sixteen years old. So he was Harvey’s genuine soul mate. The Closer narrowed his eyes. Why would Vanessa…?

The private investigator shot him a look. “He’s a college drop-out,” she answered his unvoiced question.

Harvey resisted the urge to groan. His other half was an idiot. SBI is _totally_ ridiculous.

“He had a promising start,” Vanessa sounded like she was trying to cheer him up. “He would have been discovered sooner, but the handwriting records the Bureau has retrieved through the dozen or so tests he’s been doing don’t match up. It was not until a couple of weeks ago when he was charged with possession, the Bureau was able to obtain the latest copy of his handwriting and confirm the match.”

Harvey couldn’t help the sigh that had escaped his lips. Great, on top of being stupid, his soul mate is a _junkie._

Hell, why isn’t his SBI _Dana_ instead? If it’s babies the state wants, natural birth by a woman is a lot safer than C-section with the _Cocoon_ by a man, isn’t it? [2]

Vanessa pulled Harvey out of his reverie when she placed her magazine back to the rack with an audible thud. “Cheer up,” she flashed her client a small smirk and a wink, “at least he’s really easy on the eyes.”

Harvey didn’t even consider that until Vanessa mentioned it. He passed her a tip discreetly. “Thanks for the good work.”

Harvey absently watched her walk away for a moment before he took out his mobile phone and texted Ray to pick him up. Worse come to worse, at least this _Michael_ could be Harvey’s trophy wife and charm his potential clients in social events.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is totally not true, but for the sake of this fanfic, the trend that has taken over other developed countries all over the world such as Japan, Singapore, Sweden, etc, has also affected the US. 
> 
> 2\. I mentioned earlier there would be mpreg. Because it doesn’t make sense for the state to encourage gay marriage when they want to increase birth rate. And I don't want this fic to be Omegaverse on top of being SBI AU.
> 
> The Cocoon is an artificial bag of muscle grafted from owner's own cell. It is possible for a healthy baby to be born from ectopic pregnancy (pregnancies occurring outside the uterus/womb). The primary danger is that the placenta would attach itself to many internal organs of the carrier (instead of just the womb), and during C-section if the surgeon is not careful, a wrong cut to the placenta can cause massive internal bleeding that kills either the carrier or the baby or both. The lack of protection of a womb may cause the baby to be misshapen as well. So if a male have an artificial womb, fertilization happens in-vitro with a donor’s egg, and he receives sufficient relevant hormones, technically he can be pregnant and carry the baby to term! This is very far-fetched of course :p


	2. He’s a junior but he's gutsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey tried. Harvey failed. Shockingly.

Harvey had it all sorted.

He was going to invalidate the compulsory marriage on the basis that _Michael James Ross_ was unfit to be a parent. A college drop-out and a junkie was hardly a model citizen. It’s eugenics, yes, and eugenics is always politically touchy (too much bad history), but Harvey was sure the state would secretly rather he make babies with another smart, successful lawyer.

The man Harvey laid eyes on at the mandatory meet arranged by the Bureau did not fit the image in his head (sloppy, dopey kid with dull eyes and a stupid smile).

“Mr Specter,” _Michael_ rose from his chair the moment Harvey entered the room and acknowledged the officer from the Bureau at the opposite side of the desk. He offered his hand. “How do you do?”

Harvey took his time to examine his SBI mate. He was slender and had a pretty face (nice, alert eyes and totally his type, Harvey mused, Vanessa wasn’t kidding). Harvey had seen his passport photograph, of course, but _Michael_ looked better in person. The cheap suit was an eyesore, and Harvey itched to burn that damn skinny tie and rearranged that mess of dirty blonde hair with a comb, but overall, he was someone Harvey wouldn’t mind in his bed.

Just for one night, though. Not for a lifetime.

“Harvey, please,” he countered smoothly as he shook the younger man’s hand, “I’m doing well, thank you, Michael.”

“Mike, please,” the blue-eyed man grinned and oh, God, he looked so young. He’s just a puppy.

“Mike, then,” Harvey released the hand, and took his seat next to the stranger.

“Gentlemen,” the officer greeted them, “I won’t keep you here long. I’m sure you are aware of the protocol. You’ll have slightly longer than seven days to know each other. Your marriage registration has been booked for next Friday, 3pm sharp. Meanwhile,” she passed the two men each a copy of something that looked like a manual. She had a gold band around her wrist. Of course, Harvey refrained from rolling his eyes, the Bureau officer was married to her SBI mate. “You can use this as a guide.”

Harvey flipped through the booklet and resisted the urge to snort. It contained a list of bonding activities he and Mike could do together, even the kind of conversation topics they could have.

Ridiculous.

“That’s it from me,” the middle-aged woman smiled. “You can use the rest of the time to get acquainted with each other. The café next door does a mean smoked ham sandwich,” she winked.

So that was how Harvey ended up seated on a cheap plastic chair behind a small round wooden table, his hand curled around the ceramic that was his coffee cup.

Mike looked nervous as he rambled, “You’re working in Corporate law, right? You must have consumed many cups of coffee every day, eh? Anyways, what do you specialize on? Corporate crime? M&A? Insolvency?”   

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Harvey interrupted, “You’re going to tell the Bureau that you want to back out of the mandatory marriage, claiming that you are unfit to be a parent, and I’m going to pay you a settlement.”

Mike gaped at him, disbelief etched across his face, before he shook his head. “Your parents…they aren’t each other’s SBI mates, are they?” his voice was filled with disapproval.

Harvey refrained from reacting visibly. The statement had hit too close to home. Mike had surprisingly strong intuition.

“You’re a college drop-out and a junkie,” the legal Closer decided to put Mike under the ‘Harvey treatment’ and be as nasty as possible. He watched with satisfaction when the younger blonde flinched. “Either you do it, or I submit my refusal to marry you to the Bureau on that basis, and you won’t get any penny out of me.”

Harvey waited for the kid to cave. After all, the kid had a grandmother to care for, and insufficient income. He’d been juggling odd jobs for years and his future prospects were dim. He could use the money to start a business or go back to school. The offer was too good to resist.

Mike didn’t give him the answer he wanted. Instead, he pursed his lips and met him in a strong gaze, his clear blue eyes steely. “My parents were each other’s SBI mate, and they were so good for each other,” he spoke steadily, “if you think that I’m going to give up the possibility of having what they have without a fight, you are mad.”

Harvey was stunned.

(And his SBI mate was a _romantic_. Brilliant. Just brilliant.)

After Mike finished, his phone beeped. The younger man took out a no-frills, 50-bucks phone out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. “…This boy I’m giving tuition to wants to have an additional session soon. Do you mind…?”

Harvey waved his hand absently.

Mike curled his lip wryly and slipped a fiver under his unfinished coffee. As he stood up, Harvey leaned over and grabbed the thin man’s wrist. “One last chance,” he tried to strong-arm him (literally) again.

Mike’s eye twitched. “See you next Friday at 3pm, Harvey. Text me if you want to meet me before the signing,” he said calmly, and left without a backward glance.

Huh.

\----------

When he told his omniscient executive assistant his plans, Donna stared at him as though she was a mother wondering why her son was so stupid. “It’s not going to work, cowboy,” the redhead sighed.

Harvey blanched. “Why?”

Donna passed him the thick file that contained any noteworthy detail of Mike’s life and pointed at one of the pages. “He’s currently working three jobs: bike messenger, giving tuitions for teenagers taking LSATs and MCATs, as well as _babysitting_ his neighbour’s child. She’s a single mum and he’s done it for three years, since the child was practically only a few weeks old. He’s legally paid for it – reported for income taxes concession and all – and the mum had provided Vanessa with sterling testimony. If he were that unfit to be a parent, the mum won’t have let him be with the child for frigging thirty six months.”

 _Shit_.

Harvey Specter didn’t slump. But it was a near thing.

“Winners don’t give up,” he said, and immediately looked for another angle.

He ignored the evil eye Donna was giving him.

\----------

Harvey spent the next seven days getting to know Mike all right. Just not through talking with him.

He walked into the SBI Bureau on Friday with a swagger in his steps and pronounced purplish bags under his eyes. It wasn’t easy for him to dig out this angle; took him two meetings with Vanessa and hours of poring through handwriting analyses.

The Marriage Officiant from the Office of City Clerk as well as the officer he saw last week were already in the Ceremony room, to act as witnesses as well as to facilitate the signing. Mike was in the same cheap suit he wore last week (might be his only suit, Harvey thought absently). He eyed Harvey warily as they exchanged greetings.

“Officer,” Harvey addressed the woman from the Bureau, who observed the tension in the two men’s interaction disapprovingly. “Before we proceed, I would like to express my…reluctance. To get married to a criminal.”

Mike sighed audibly and covered his face with his hands, while the officer only gave Harvey a patronizing smile. “Mr Ross has been pardoned for his…drug possession, Mr Specter, and he has been tested regularly. He is clean.” She shot the blonde man a sideway glance, and Mike nodded hastily.

“It’s not that,” Harvey knew better than to interrupt but he knew how to pitch an unwanted case quickly. “Within the past five years, Michael Ross has taken fifteen LSATs and two MCATs. That’s an awful lot of tests. Almost as though he has been taking one every testing period, even though he knows he does not have the financial means to complete law or medical school,” he talked quickly as he handed the two clerks a brief each. “There is nothing wrong with trying hard and hoping for the best, of course, but each time he did a test, his handwriting was different. This is rather suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Mr Specter,” the woman had a really tight smile on her face, “yes, the Bureau is aware of this…It is normal for people to experiment with handwriting styles.”

 “Not in our twenties, surely,” Harvey argued, “and after close inspections, in five of those tests, Michael is suspected to have taken them for someone else!” The blonde man slumped further into his seat with every word that passed through Harvey’s lips. “The handwriting samples on page 6 and a testimony from one Andrew Williams-”

“Mr Specter!” the Bureau officer raised her voice. Her facial expression looked almost murderous. “One moment, please,” she spoke tersely. It was a politely worded order.

Harvey straightened his suit before he followed the older woman out to her office, where they first met. Instead of letting him sit down, she cornered him against the door the moment it was closed.

“I’m familiar with the likes of you, Mr Specter,” she narrowed her eyes, dark behind her horn-rimmed spectacles.

“And what’s that?” Harvey reacted suavely. He didn’t want to show how rattled he was, deeply.

She ignored him. “I have worked in the Bureau for over a decade, Mr Specter. Once, I convinced a woman to marry an ex-inmate who had murdered his own father. They’re now proud parents of three beautiful, well-behaved children.”

 _That is just one success story._ Harvey continued laying his charm on thick, “The state would rather I marry someone more…equal and have a family with her, don’t you agree?”

“Oh,” she tilted her head, “you have a candidate in mind? She didn’t come up in our screening.”

Harvey merely smiled. “We kept it private.”

“Really?” She wasn’t bluffed. “You professionals, always making excuses to retain your freedom...The moment I let you out of here unmarried, chances are, you’ll stay married to your job for the rest of your life,” his opponent raised her brow and dared him to challenge her.

She wasn’t wrong.

The officer sighed. “Go back there and sign the contract with Michael Ross, Mr Specter. He may have done some stupid things but they’re no heavy crime. You’ll be fine.”

Afterward, the proceeding Harvey went through was so awkward it hardly felt like a marriage registration. Little glances at Mike showed Harvey that he was visibly uncomfortable (and rightly so. Harvey had, essentially, rejected him to his face twice), but they completed it without much fanfare (aside from the stunt Harvey pulled initially).  

Mike followed him as they walked out of the Bureau, half a step behind the lawyer. Harvey walked in the direction of Pearson Hardman without a care to the world before a hand reached out for his forearm.

“Look,” the blue-eyed man’s words were soft and uncertain, “I know you obviously don’t want to be with me, but-”

Harvey gritted his teeth and passed the kid the name card of his trusted mover and the spare key to his flat. “The Bureau requires that we move in together. They’re going to check on us,” he extricated his hand from Mike’s grip carefully. He needed to give a call to his security to keep an eye on the pup, Harvey thought absently, make sure he didn't take anything out of his house. Not that he had anything worth an arm there...after all he'd had many strangers as guests before. “I need to go back to work. See you.”

He knew Mike was staring after his back. He refused to be bothered by it.

Day 1: a disaster.

Well, at least things couldn’t get worse.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for bullying you, Mike. Things will get better, I promise *pat pat*


	3. Ain’t a Cinderella Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are still frosty in the Specter-Ross household. But it's about to change soon.

Harvey stumbled into bed at an hour too ungodly to mention, dead tired from the cases he’d worked on. One of them was on the verge of becoming a grueling, all-consuming case very soon. He’d just made Senior Partner and the increased responsibilities were taking a toll on him. Anyways, work could always find him whenever he spared time for them.

He’d shuffled across the living room without switching on the lights and barely managed to take off his suit and make sure it’s properly hanged before he went kaput. He didn’t notice the two boxes that had been shoved against the kitchen wall.

The next morning, Harvey woke up at 6 a.m., and hated himself for his biological clock. His years of slaving away as an associate had programmed his body. He couldn’t sleep again no matter how much he wanted to.

He wandered to his kitchen blearily, still in yesterday’s undershirt and boxers, only to be startled when he saw another man in his home, his head buried in Harvey’s refrigerator.

For a moment, Harvey instinctually inched closer to the closet where he kept his baseball bats, only to breathe in relief when the stranger straightened up and his messy dirty blonde hair came into view.

 _Mike_ , his brain supplied.

He’d almost forgotten he was married. Just yesterday.

The younger man noticed Harvey’s presence as he half turned with a carton of milk in his hand and he smiled brightly. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Harvey mumbled, his eyes couldn’t help but be riveted to Mike’s legs and backside. He was wearing a knee-length shorts that hugged his leanly muscled thighs and ass. Harvey was lost in his admiration of Mike’s long shapely limbs, inwardly regretting why he didn’t bed the man at least once prior to condemning him, before he doubled over at the sight of protectors adorning the paler man’s elbows and knees. Now that he was more awake, he noticed the helmet perched on his long island table.

“What are you going to do?” the question came out more harshly than Harvey intended.

Mike blinked. “My job?” he put down the mug he’d been pouring milk into on the table. “I know you investigated me. I’m sure you know I work as a bike messenger.”

Harvey did, but… “I thought you will quit after…” he gestured at his apartment.

Mike’s casual expression shut off straight away. “Look,” the lines of his body were taut, “I want to still look after myself. You already think of me a gold digger; I’m not going to reinforce it.”

“It’s ridiculous!” Harvey very nearly gaped. He was less controlled without his first cup of coffee in the morning, pardon him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, best legal Closer in town. I know. You’re not the only one who did some research,” Mike’s reply was snide. “Look, I know my jobs will embarrass you in front of your colleagues and clients, but it’s not like you are planning to introduce me to anyone in your circle, are you?”

Harvey didn’t respond. Mike’s right.

Mike’s eyes strayed to the wall Harvey knew contained the clock. “I’m going to be late,” he murmured. He retrieved the bag lying on the floor and slung it over his shoulder. “See you later.”

Harvey slid to his couch the moment he could hear the front door clicking shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Well. If puppy’s responsible enough to not want to sponge off him, at least Harvey didn’t need to tell the kid not to bring any hobos to his flat for a coke party.

\----------

Harvey’s philosophy in life was: if there were anything he didn’t understand, either he made sure he would, or he pretended it didn’t exist. The former was the stand he always took with his studies and his job, and the latter he took with matters of the heart.

So it was only natural that Harvey decided to spend his fine Saturday in the office, to distract himself from the mess of emotions from this morning _frustration irritation ~~guilt~~_ with other people’s mess. Legal mess. Mess he was good at cleaning up.

Eventually, he had to go home. Harvey spent two seconds staring at his door, resenting that he was ~~afraid~~ reluctant to enter his own place. There was a reason why he had spent everything he had for the down payment and subsisted on a college student’s diet for six months despite having just made junior partner, so that he could pay off the mortgage as soon as possible. Having no furniture but a futon for six month didn’t even faze him. Harvey viewed having his own home, a place he could call _his_ , a place he could _feel safe_ in, as highly important.

And now the Bureau had ruined it.

Harvey berated himself inwardly for his hesitance as he unlocked the front door. “I’m home,” he declared.

The moment he stepped inside, he was assaulted by the scent of something cooking. Tomatoes, herbs, and…meat?

“Harvey?” Oh, the puppy was in the kitchen again, standing behind a pot Harvey remembered having seen in his cupboard somewhere before (he didn’t cook very often). Mike was wearing a full-bodied black apron that had ‘ _Be nice to me or I’ll poison your food_ ’ written across the torso. “I’m cooking ketchup and pasta, do you want some?”

The kid had clearly just showered. His hair was still wet, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove. He looked…fetching.

(Yeah, yeah, we’ve established that Harvey had wanted to screw Mike since they first met. But that alone wasn’t enough as the foundation of a _marriage_.)

Harvey cringed. “Ketchup and…what?”

“Hey, with Swedish meatballs, it tastes _great_ , ok?” Mike grinned, “I was appalled when I first heard of it, but it’s cheap and easy and surprisingly good!”

The hotdog fan in Harvey, who loved fast foods and cheap snacks, wanted to try. But… “I’ve eaten dinner,” Harvey wasn’t lying.

“Oh,” Mike’s face fell. “I’ll just store the leftover in the fridge then.”

“You do that,” Harvey resisted the urge to make the younger man feel better. His eyes were really puppy-like. “Thanks,” he escaped to his bedroom while he could still make it.

The next few days went on in a similar fashion. Harvey woke up early and came home late. Often, he ate dinner outside, mostly with clients, but sometimes he consciously decided to eat out alone. It wasn’t that Mike’s cooking was bad; Harvey often brought the packed food to office for lunch (rapidly becoming a good housewife, isn’t he…and Donna, damn her, had been teasing Harvey about it) it tasted…okay. No gourmet food, of course, but mostly good.

It’s just…dinner conservations were very, _very_ awkward. Harvey had given it a try before, and went through half an hour of silence alternating with word vomits that made little sense. Harvey knew that Mike was nervous around him, and he had to be the one who made the first approach in order for the…relationship to really work (because he’d rejected Mike before, twice), but…he couldn’t muster himself to care. He was still…angry; at the Bureau, at Mike, at Fate, at _himself_ for losing.

Another unproductive day gone (he was still far away from solving the goddamned case…it still needed something...), Harvey meandered through his house in the dark, one hand loosening his tie, when suddenly the living room was illuminated by bright lights.

“Harvey,” Mike was standing next to the switch, his arms crossed. He looked really serious. “We need to talk.”

The lawyer sighed inwardly. Luckily, what Mike wore was not distracting: a plain loose t-shirt and an ordinary pajama pants, covering his legs to his ankle despite the summer heat. He made a beeline for the dinner table and Harvey followed him obediently.

“Here,” the moment they were both seated, Mike produced a piece of paper and pushed it to Harvey. The lawyer thought it would contain some house rules, or demands, only to be shocked when the first line read ‘Hobby: ……….’

“I’ve prepared mine,” Mike retrieved another piece of paper, “When the Bureau check on us I hardly think they’re going to stop at verifying that we live together. They’re going to ask questions, test how much we know about each other.”

Harvey wanted to laugh. Tear the paper. Whichever.

Meanwhile, those pale blue eyes were watching him carefully. “Harvey,” Mike began, his voice soft again, “I know you are angry-”

“Damn right I am,” Harvey couldn’t keep it in anymore. He was tired, stressed because of a roadblock at work, and mad that he didn’t feel at home in his own house. “How could you not be angry? That suddenly you’re stuck with a nasty stranger – yes, I acknowledge that I have been a bastard to you – for life?” When Mike opened his mouth to answer, Harvey interrupted again. “Oh, yes, I forgot. It’s because you believe we will fall in love and live happily ever after-”

“We can be good for each other,” for the first time since they first met, Mike had raised his voice and interrupted Harvey. He rose to his feet (since when was Harvey standing?) and slammed his palms on the table. “I know we can. But you’re not trying! I need you to try!”

“I don’t want to try!” Harvey yelled louder, “I don’t care about you!”

Mike inhaled sharply.

He looked like he had just been slapped on the face, his transparent eyes wide and _hurt_.

Harvey couldn’t stand it. He turned away and left without a word.

The silence continued the whole night.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing like I'm on a roll. Soon I'll have to stop coz finals are coming T_T. Sorry Mike, I'm still bullying you. It's necessary. I don't claim to understand Harvey, but I would think it won't be easy for him to accept Mike in this setting (when Mike is his associate they depend on each other, but in this situation Harvey half resents him half doesn't know what to do with him).
> 
> Next chapter Mike'll get a smile from Harvey I promise!


	4. Where is this Tuxedo Situation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike had a debutante...and solved a difficult situation to the bafflement of most people present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay...last exams of my univ life (hopefully, cross fingers!!) happening in...2 weeks. Need to study for this killer module...damn you consolidated financial statement...

At a charity gala, a dark-skinned woman sidled up next to him at the bar and smiled, “Hi, Harvey.”

“Hi Lucille,” the lawyer turned to her and returned the greeting. “How’s Stable Shelters?”

“Not looking too good,” the charismatic woman sighed. As she raised her glass to sip her drink, the plain silver bangle she wore to hide her SBI from view reflected the light from the chandelier. “You know what happened to us. But enough about that. A friend of mine who works in the SBI Bureau told me a piece of shocking news,” her lips curled up widely.

Harvey’s heart jumped to his throat. “Oh?” he quirked his brow as he waved the bartender and asked for another glass of whisky. He might need it.

As though he was jinxed, Jessica suddenly appeared behind her friend and leaned over the counter. “I heard something about having shocking news,” she said after she’d ordered a glass of martini, “I’m interested.”

Harvey groaned inwardly as the curve of Lucille’s lips widened. She’s an evil, evil woman. “I heard that our Harvey here had been matched to his SBI mate, who has made an honest man out of Harvey.”

“Oh!” Harvey saw Jessica’s eyes trailing across his unadorned wrist and twinkling in amusement. “Congratulations, Harvey. Why have you not taken the Lady here?”

In half a second, Harvey debated over introducing them to one of his lady friends instead of Mike, but the charade wouldn’t last very long. Harvey smiled and laid his charm, despite the fact that the two women in front of him wouldn’t be fooled anyways. It’s pretty much a shield as much as a tool. “It’s a man, my SBI mate,” he corrected. When the two women looked unfazed, he continued, “He’s Mike, Mike Ross. There are quite a few years between us, so he’s busy.” He didn’t tell them what Mike was busy with. He let them assume he was still in college.

“Is he studying out of town?” True enough, that was what Lucille had come to assume.

Again, Harvey was tempted to say an outright lie, ‘yes’ so that he could hide Mike from them. But this could only hold on for a couple of year max. And gossip travelled like wildfire. Finally, he answered, “No.”

“Then this is unacceptable,” Jessica tutted, “Joy’s business anniversary next week? I want to see him there, Harvey.”

“Mike’s…a little rough around the edges,” Harvey tried to argue. “He’s really not used to occasions like these. His favourite food is pizza,” he remembered that from the fact sheet the pup had given him earlier. That disastrous night.

“I’m sure you can teach him to be charming,” Jessica merely straightened herself and waved her hand dismissively. “Night, Harvey. See you in the office on Monday,” she turned away and left. Lucille smiled at him before she followed the taller woman.

 _Shit_.

\----------

This time, it was Harvey who sought for Mike. He came home early and knocked at the guestroom’s door. There was no answer. The door, though, was unlocked, so Harvey invited himself in. It was the first time he entered the room since Mike had moved in.

The room still looked the same as before the whole debacle started. Sure, there were some books lying on the nightstand, and the closet had lots of t-shirts, torn jeans and shorts piled on the shelves, but that’s pretty much it. Mike had not re-decorated anything, or attempted to make the room feel homier.

Like he was expecting he could get kicked out anytime.

Harvey settled down on the couch and started working on the briefs he’d taken home to forget the guilt he’d started feeling at that thought. As Senior Partner, Jessica had bugged him to hire an associate so he did, but the Harvard douche he’d anyhow selected because he was too tired of interviewing clones didn’t help him much at all. In fact, Kyle had given him more headaches with his baseless arrogance. Before long, Harvey had surrounded himself with mountains of papers.

The creaking of the front door pulled him out of his reverie. Harvey turned around in his seat and stated, “Welcome home.”

Mike had just came back from biking, it seemed. His shirt was drenched in sweat, his hair wet and flattened to his head like a porcupine’s, patches of his skin flushed pink. Harvey eyed the grey fabric clinging to the younger man’s lean muscles, and for the umpteenth time, wished he could haul the guy to his bed and watch him writhe as Harvey fuck him so hard he could see stars.

(It’s ironic that Harvey couldn’t have sex with his own husband. Karma is a bitch.)  

Mike was stunned to see him, Harvey could tell. After all, he could count with one hand how many times he was home at 7pm in the past two weeks. The younger man blinked profusely before he approached Harvey reluctantly. “Hello,” he said as he sat at the other end of the sofa, “what’s up?”

Now that Mike had given the opening, Harvey cut straight to the point. “Do you own a tux?”

Harvey observed as Mike’s eyes widened in shock. His brow twisted before he settled on, “No, I don’t. Why?” when Harvey was sure what Mike really wanted to say was, ‘ _Do I look like I either need one or have the money to buy one?_ ’

Harvey had expected it. “Are you free anytime tomorrow?”

Mike’s eyebrow rose to his hairline at what must seem to be an inquisition to him. “Yes, afternoon, after 2pm.”

“Good,” the older man reached for his wallet in his pocket and passed the kid Rene’s business card. “Can you reach that place at 3pm?”

Mike inspected the address for a moment. “Yes…”

“Great. Tell Rene Harvey sent you there to get a tux fitted, to be ready before this Friday noon. He’ll know to put it on my tab.”

“Okay,” Mike looked bewildered, “but why? What will I need it for?”

Here’s the moment of truth. “A client of Pearson Hardman is holding a gala for the anniversary of her business,” Harvey took a deep breath. “I’m taking you there.”

The blue-eyed blonde gaped, his mouth forming an ‘o’. “I…I thought you weren’t going to introduce me to your colleagues,” he stammered.

Harvey only smiled in response. He was a douche enough without telling Mike, ‘I didn’t have any choice.’

What Harvey didn’t count on was how _amazed_ Mike looked. His whole face lit up, making him look impossibly young and…pretty. Hope suited him.

Mike clutched at the card tightly as he said, “Wow, I…I won’t let you down.”

Harvey was strangely out of breath. “You do that.”

\----------

Harvey didn’t have time to accompany Mike to Rene’s. Anyways, he trusted Rene’s judgment and skills. If Rene could make Louis looked the slightest bit more attractive in a suit (Norma’s words, not his), Rene could make anyone look good in a suit.

So the first time Harvey got to see the puppy in Rene’s masterpiece was fifteen minutes before the gala started, in the backseat of his car, temporarily parked in front of his apartment, glued to his Blackberry as he waited for Ray to usher Mike in.

The blue-eyed blonde sounded out of breath when he slid across the leather seat. “I didn’t know how to put some of these on,” he gestured at himself. “I’m no Bruce Wayne,” he gave a weak smile.

Harvey turned to give the younger man a critical eye, and couldn’t find any scathing remarks to say. The tux was broad on the shoulders while a little cinched on the waist, making up for the features Mike lacked while accentuating his attractive parts. Rene had done his job well. He’d even used materials that weren’t easy to wrinkle. Pressed and proper, the fabric fitted on Mike’s skin.

The disaster, of course, was what Mike had done to the bowtie around his collar.

Harvey refrained from sighing or rolling his eyes. “Shift closer.”

The blonde obeyed, his body angled towards the brunet. Harvey leaned over and took the wretched bowtie into his hands and dealt with it deftly.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey felt the younger man’s voice rumbling against his collarbone rather than heard it. “I didn’t have time to watch YouTube tutorials.”

This up close, the scent of Mike’s aftershave nearly overwhelmed Harvey, and the dip of his pale throat was so, so tantalizing. Harvey watched Mike’s Adam apple bobbed as he gulped nervously, the lawyer’s fingers finishing the tie automatically.

Mike must have been staring at him because when Harvey looked up, their eyes met.

For a moment they were locked in a gaze. Harvey could see dark flecks in the kid’s pale blue irises, the flutter of his lashes, the way his pupil started to dilate. Harvey’s gaze dropped to his thin, pink lips and he was overcome with the impulse to capture them in a kiss and worry the flesh between his teeth until it was swollen.

“We’ve arrived,” Ray’s announcement broke through the haze in Harvey’s head.

The lawyer straightened himself smoothly as Mike blinked and shook his head, as though to clear his mind.  Harvey gave the hems Mike’s tux a light tug to clear out the creases. “Are you ready?” the Closer tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Mike looked a little nervous, but his nod was sure.

Harvey quirked his lip and let himself out of the vehicle. He strolled to the other side, and helped the kid out because Harvey Specter knew his manners, thank you. Mike took the proffered hand, and Harvey didn’t let go. The Show had started.

Donna met them close to the entrance. The redhead was stunning in an emerald dressed. “Glad to finally meet Mr Ross-Specter,” she raised her champagne glass at them.

Neither Mike nor Harvey corrected her. The pup merely gave her his most amiable smile and offered his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Ms…”

“Donna. Donna Paulsen. I run your husband’s life,” she raised one finely shaped brow at Harvey, as though daring him to challenge her.

Mike’s brows rose to his hairline.

Harvey laughed in response. “The Lady’s right.”

“Harvey!” one of his major clients, a filthy rich balding middle-aged man (like most of his clients), approached him and grinned toothily at him, his very young plus one waiting by his side prettily. “Let’s catch up,” he placed a beefy hand on Harvey’s arm as an obvious attempt to steer him away.

Harvey didn’t like following other’s pace, but sometimes he still had to. “Mike,” he gave the puppy a rueful smile, “I’m sorry.”

The blue-eyed blonde looked afraid (rightly so. He’s out of his elements and he knew nobody there), but Donna, the life-safer, placed a hand on the pup’s elbow. “Don’t worry, Harvey. I’ll keep him company for you,” she winked.

Harvey settled whatever business the man wanted him to look into as quickly as he could, but he was stalled by others as he went back across the big hall, and it was his job to network with his clients, so he couldn’t exactly ignore them or shove them out of his way. By the time he could see Mike again, at least twenty minutes had passed, and Donna was nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” he walked towards one of the mini round tables located sparsely around the place, where Mike was leaning against. He was holding a glass of champagne in his hand. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Mike was still lucid, thank goodness. A little tipsy, but the alcohol had took away his nerves, which was good. “Donna has to tend to…something. She introduced me to Rachel, Harold, Kyle, and a few other associates. They...”

“Find the fact that I’m married incredulous?” Harvey placed a hand on the small of Mike’s back. Not too low, just casually intimate (it’s the most intentionally intimate thing he’d done…barring the moment they had in the car just now of course). “Come on, there are a few other people I’d like you to meet…” Harvey began to direct his spouse.

“Oh, Harvey!” Harvey didn’t have to go very far before Lucille found them. She was with Jessica, Wong, an American-born Chinese man who owned a chain of consumer brands, and his SBI mate (as proudly displayed by the matching diamond-studded gold bracelets around their right wrists), as well as property tycoon Tchenguiz and his arm candy for the night. “Is that…?”

Harvey inserted the two of them within the small circle. “Gentlemen, Ladies,” he smiled, “Let me introduce you to Mike, my SBI mate.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mike turned on his charm like a switch.

Harvey watched as Jessica scrutinised Mike furtively. There was no way her sharp eyes would miss the tension on the kid's neck, or the tiny twitch of his nose, which belayed his nervousness.

On the other hand, Tchenguiz’s eyes roved over Mike slowly, from the tip of his gelled hair to his shiny shoe, before the man leered. Harvey bristled inwardly.

The tycoon’s date cooed. “A pretty young thing, aren’t you?”

From a side glance, Harvey could tell Mike was slightly weirded out. The pup covered it adeptly, though. “Thank you, Miss…”

“Romana,” the girl beamed at him.

“What is it do you do, Mike?” Jessica inquired. Despite her casual tone, it still sounded like an interview question.

“Mike gives tuitions,” Harvey answered swiftly, inwardly starting to panic.

Lucille gave him an evil eye for speaking for his spouse. Mrs Wong, however, frowned openly. “I thought I heard you telling the associates earlier that you are an aspiring writer,” she mentioned quizzically.

Jessica raised her brow.

Harvey’s heart rose to his throat. _Shit_. Why didn’t they take time to match their stories before the party?

“I do inspire to be a writer,” Harvey watched as Mike recovered the situation. “But one cannot survive on hope alone, so I gave tuitions to pay the bills. I’ve grown attached to some of my tutees, so I still continue.”

“Ooh,” Romana brought her hands together, “isn’t it nice to have a sugar daddy?” she remarked enthusiastically.

Mike laughed. “I’d like to label him as a man who supports my dream, instead,” he gave Harvey a smitten look. Damn, Mike was a good actor.

Lucille looked amused. She must have found it entertaining that the image Mike had presented as Harvey's SBI mate - a romantic fantasist - appeared to be the complete opposite of him. Jessica, however, did not look convinced.

It turned out, Harvey observed as Mike carried intensive conversations on various American classics with Jessica, Lucille and Mrs Wong, the pup had enough knowledge to pass off as an aspiring writer. He remembered quotes perfectly and could dissect literature with adequate finesse, just light enough for a dinner conversation such as this one. Amongst successful businessmen in Harvey’s circle, giving tuitions was seen as a temporal job [1] (they were people who have the means to do better; wives who enjoyed teaching children were mostly teachers at established prep schools), where else writers were stereotyped as an emotional, introverted bunch [2], so nobody was going to look too deeply into Mike’s past poorly-made life decisions. It was a perfect cover.

As they moved on to the next group of clients (Harvey still feeling his boss' stare on their backs), Harvey felt the need to express his opinion to the pup. “That was a good save.”

A bright smile took over Mike’s face. “Thanks,” he whispered back.

“Is it okay to let it lie, though?” Harvey recalled the conversation they had the first morning of Mike’s stay in the penthouse, “the implication that I’m your sugar daddy?”

Mike shrugged. “I’m here to make you look good, Harvey.”

Harvey was…really impressed. If only Kyle would take on Mike’s view, instead of trying too hard to prove himself only to cause Harvey to look like a fool…

The night went on uneventfully. Mike continued to charm Harvey’s current and potential clients and their dates with discussions on books and movies (surprisingly, he remembered a lot about them). The kid stumbled sometimes (his brand of wit was...rather different from what the likes of Harvey's clients were used to), but Mike was so well-mannered and sincere they couldn't help but like him. Harvey relaxed and stopped thinking that something would go wrong.

Barely after the thought entered Harvey’s head, someone near them started a racket.

“My bracelet!” one of the plus-ones, a red-haired woman in a black dress with a plunging neckline, was screaming at one of the maids, her manicured hands gripping the Latino’s arms tightly as she shook the hired help. “You stole it, didn’t you? You slipped it into your pocket when I stumbled on you, your opportunistic little bitch!”

She clearly had one too many drinks, her speech slightly slurred and her hazel eyes unfocused.

“No, Ma’am, I did no such thing,” the maid looked scared, disgusted and resigned, all at once.

The guest squinted at the maid. “I’ll search you.”

She lunged at the Latino, who rushed to raise her hands, which were holding on to a tray of beverages, out of the way. The hired help was clumsily groped, a harassment rather than a ‘search’.

Clearly, the redhead could not find anything, but she was still vicious. “You’re hiding it in your underwear,” she accused.

This had gone on too far. As the hostess of the event, Joy stepped into the fray. “Honey, you’ve had too much to drink,” she slowly, soothingly attempted to steer the unabbreviated woman. “I’ll settle with my maid personally. Please have some water-”

 “No!” she screamed shrilly, “it’s an important gift, you can’t imagine its value-”

 Two gentlemen restrained her when she was about to assault Joy. The redhead’s date had all but disappeared.

Joy looked rattled. She had her mobile phone out on her hands and was about to call for security when suddenly Mike stepped in and placed a hand on her forearm. “Please wait,” he pleaded.

Harvey’s heart dropped to his stomach. _What are you thinking of doing, pup?_ He thought in frustration as Mike approached the Latino maid and asked her, “Do you remember when approximately did she stumble on you and you helped righted her up? Was it seven minutes ago?”

The timing he asked was very specific. There was, after all, a clock hanging on the wall behind the buffet table adjacent to them.

The maid looked anxious, “I-I can’t remember-”

Mike kept his calm. “You walk around the room in rounds, right? And each round takes you…”

“…Around forty minutes,” something dawned on the expression of the Latino, “but when I walked here, someone requested wine, which I no longer had, so I walked back to the kitchen to get some. The lady,” she gestured at the redhead, “stumbled upon me when I was walking to the kitchen. It takes about three minutes to walk from the kitchen to this area, with the crowd…so yes, about seven, eight minutes.”

“Thanks!” Mike beamed at the maid. He then approached the disastrously distraught redhead.

“She’s a thief!” the guest was still screaming.

“Miss...Anna, was it?” Mike started very softly, very carefully, like treating a wounded animal.

“Annabelle,” the redhead gave him a dirty stare.

Mike ignored the scathing response. “Is the bracelet you are looking for…white gold in colour? About this wide, with purple linings?” his hands moved according to his descriptions. “And four rubies around the clasp, this big and this much apart?”

Her eyes grew wider and wider with each word he spoke. “Yes!” by the end of it, she was no longer giving trouble to the men restraining her. Her attention was solely on him now. “Yes, that’s my bracelet!”

Harvey observed the puppy as his gaze went blank, his eyes flickering, as though he was going through something in his mind. Occasionally, Mike looked around, his sight focusing on certain spots.

He eventually zeroed in to the row of drinks at the corner. Mike referred to another hired help, a thin dark-eyed servant. “Could you help me check if anything is under that table? Hidden by the tablecloth?”

The servant followed the instruction, and soon enough, he returned with the described object in hand. Everyone was amazed.

The redhead appeared extremely grateful as Mike helped her put the jewelry back on. “Thank you so much,” she babbled reverently, “I wouldn’t know what to do if I can’t get it back.”

Mike merely smiled gently, and placed a hand on her inner wrist, right where her SBI should be. Harvey saw him whisper something to the woman, before she gave him a watery smile and a hug. She was subdued as she was carefully led out of by the valet.

“Well, well, well,” Joy, too, looked grateful as she placed herself next to Harvey. “You handled it very well, Mike,” Joy praised Mike as the younger man returned to them.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” the pup looked adorably abashed at the compliment. “I’m only trying to help.”

"Aren't you a darling," Joy chuckled at the show of modesty. “Specialising in troubled situations, indeed, the Specters.” 

Harvey responded with charm, like he was supposed to. Despite the fact that he was baffled by what he'd seen. “That’s us,” he reached for Mike’s hand and squeezed it in a show of solidarity.

Joy’s smile widened. “It makes me really glad to have you gentlemen around.”

That’s pretty much her confirmation that she would sign another engagement letter. Harvey fought to keep a victorious grin off his face.

“Gentlemen,” Joy excused herself as other guests occupied her time. Harvey and Mike gave her a nod. As soon as she was out of sight, Harvey let go of Mike’s hand. “Our purpose here is done,” he told the younger man. “Let’s say our goodbyes.” Harvey started weaving his way through the crowd (though thinning, still difficult to navigate through), trusting that Mike would fall into step behind him.

In retrospect, it was the first sign Mike was ~~special~~ more than what he let on.

However, happy with the outcome of the turn of events, Harvey decided to confront it another day.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I have nothing against private tutors. It’s just…as explained above, the upper class and professionals in Harvey’s circle view giving tuition as a temporary job some of them had undertook when they were younger and still poor to pay the bills, or as a side job for socialite wives doing their friends a favour. Mike was not a socialite wife, and they couldn’t imagine Harvey condoning Mike to continue working odd jobs since Harvey was loaded.  
> 2\. From http://frootbat31.wordpress.com/2009/03/25/stereotypes-of-writers/


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